


Lookin' Up at Gray Skies (I tripped in the parking lot)

by cancerthecrabbo



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: A little bit of blood, Day 2: Bloody Hands, F/M, Fluff, He loves her sooo much, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Pb & J, Physical hurt/comfort, Sometime around season 4, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: Jim is late for work on a Friday.  The later he is, the later he has to stay so the work doesn't pile up.  With wet hair and the threat of hypothermia, he speed-walks a little too fast in the parking lot and ends up getting the whole day off.(Day 2 of Whumptober: Bloody Hands)





	Lookin' Up at Gray Skies (I tripped in the parking lot)

**Author's Note:**

> it is...11:21 PM I started this at 10:40 PM. Whumptober is really pushing my ability to write, and I love it! This is around the time Jim and Pam are dating and I guess almost engaged. I know this is more fitting for Concussion (day 20) but oh well :D It's late...I'm tired...good night

The temperature drops in Pennsylvania in October to chilly 60s during the day and as low as mid-30s at night.  Jim has always been warned that should it rain during fall and winter months that he should be careful when playing outside.  He listened because, like most children, he didn’t want to fall and crack open his head.  He still doesn’t want to slip and die while he still works at a paper company and still isn’t married to Pam, so he’s careful.  But it was all thrown out of the window on a cold morning in October.

 

The mornings are drab and filled with gray skies these days but Jim can still appreciate the fall aesthetic.  He likes curling up under a blanket and drinking hot chocolate, damn it.  So maybe he overindulged last night and watched TV until well after midnight because he drank too much hot chocolate, which meant he woke up late and had to rush to get to work on time.  He doesn’t necessarily feel that much anxiety about getting into work late but it’s Friday and he doesn’t want to stay any later than he has to.  Jim showered in 5 minutes, rushed around the house, and forgot a coat.

 

The heat in his car is working double-time to make sure Jim, with his wet hair and a thin jacket, doesn’t get hypothermia.  He doesn’t even want to think about getting out of the car and hanging around the drafty office or having to deal with Dwight's shenanigans when he’s this tired. 

 

The thought of Pam makes him want to run across the parking lot.

 

As it is, he parks as dejectedly as one can park, and speed-walks toward the building.  The frigid breeze of an October morning brushes needles into his damp neck and right through his shirt.  In his haste to get into the warmth and avoid dying in the parking lot, Jim doesn’t notice the patch of ice sitting right in front of the building doors.

 

His foot slides out from under him so fast he hits the floor before he can blink.  The blow knocks the breath out of him and he’s stunned for several seconds, unable to drag a breath in.  When he can finally inhale, he sucks in as much oxygen as he can and curses a blue streak.  Jim tries to blink the black spots from his vision and rid himself of the headache forming, hoping that it was just the oxygen deprivation, but suddenly realizes the back of his head is getting wetter.

 

Jim’s back aches sharply as well as his tailbone but he grits his teeth and sits up.  His vision is almost completely obscured for a moment.  He reaches to feel around his skull, pulling his hand back as soon as he feels the sticky warmth pooling there. 

  
“Goddamnit,” he hisses, looking down at his bloody hand.  The sight of his own blood trickling down his palm makes him nauseous.  Jim blinks hard against the throbbing in his head and bites his cheek to hold down his pathetic breakfast.  He blinks the pained tears from his eyes and stands slowly, groaning.  He’s sure his back will be a lovely tapestry of bruises tomorrow. 

 

Looking down at his watch, Jim feels a spike of frustration at the knowledge that his attempt to get into the office quicker slowed him down by 12 minutes.

 

_Hold on_.  Jim doesn’t remember about 10 of those minutes.  He must have blacked out for a while.  It’s a good thing he’s late, then, because he doesn’t trust most of the people in the office to be around him while he’s unconscious.  With hazy thoughts that maybe he should get to the ER, Jim staggers through the doors and past Hank. 

 

“Jim, what in the hell—,” Hank starts to say.

 

“Mm, no,” Jim cuts him off and steps into the elevator, jabbing the 'close' button.  The elevator doors shut before Hank can even get up.  He feels bad for being so rude but his skull throbs spectacularly.  “Pa-am.”  He groans her name as the elevator lurches upwards, hoping she’ll somehow hear him and start calling an ambulance.  “Ow, ow, ow.”

 

The elevator doors open with an obnoxious _ping_.  He feels a little lost despite staring down the hallway he’s brushed through for years.  The vivid memories of meeting Pam at the reception desk motivate him to take a step and then another until he finally reaches the door.  Jim stands there for a second, wobbling.  The camera guy asks someone if they should do something, but Jim is already pushing the door open.

 

“Pam Beesly,” he calls, “Help me please.” 

 

“Jim?”  Jim raises his hand to wave.  Pam screams, and the noise combined with the bright lights make his head hurt horribly. 

 

* * *

 

“So you ran out of your car, hair wet, and didn’t slow down, so you tripped and hit your head.  All in one day.”  Pam holds Jim’s hand.  He sits on an examination table, waiting for the doctor to come back with the CAT scan.  He isn’t too worried since the doctor said the concussion is probably just mild and he’ll need to take some pain medicine for the headaches and light sensitivity, but that he could go back to work on Monday.

 

“I better be getting a Dundie for this.”

 

“Jim, you could’ve gotten really sick or gotten really hurt!  Don’t- don’t joke about that.”

 

“Hey,” he squeezes her hand, “I’m okay.  I promise I’ll be even more careful in the future.”  Jim feels a little more grounded with her so close to him.  He’s glad she convinced Michael to stay at Dunder Mifflin while she drove him to the ER.  The office antics would be too much for him right now.

 

“Good.”  She runs her hand through his hair, down his neck, and gently pushes his head onto her shoulder.  He closes his eyes and breathes her in. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't even the other whumpy fic i've been working on for jim lmao.


End file.
